


Magical Mystery Love

by DemonDean10



Category: The Beatles (Band)
Genre: Angst, BDSM, Bottom John, Boys Find Out, Coming Out, Dom/sub, Drunken Confessions, Fighting, Fluff, Friendship, Getting Together, Homophobia, Hurt/Comfort, Internalized Homophobia, Jealousy, M/M, Magical Mystery Tour, Making Up, Mental Health Issues, Multi, Period-Typical Homophobia, Possessive Behavior, Protective John, Protective Paul, Top Paul, might flip once in a while idk, that's just how it is
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-05
Updated: 2019-04-22
Packaged: 2019-11-12 05:31:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,515
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18004745
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DemonDean10/pseuds/DemonDean10
Summary: yeah i know what a cheesy titleBasically, Paul gets drunk one night during MMT filming and confesses his love for John. JOhn had been in love for yrs and is elated. but when Paul wakes up he remembers very little of the night before, will he tel John or try to make the relationship work, even with all the moral conflicts it brings up?Also Bob/George are my new fave pairing and I hope to write some solo stuff for them too.





	1. Your Mother Should Know

The sad truth of John’s life was that he was never going to be able to be truly happy. You see, he was missing that one key aspect in his life called love. Or rather, true love. Even if he was a married man, the person John loved with all his being was someone he would never be able to marry. It was impossible in every way, it was illegal and taboo. Because the person John was in love with, was Paul McCartney. And Paul McCartney was not only a man, he was also John’s best mate. And one didn’t just fall in love with their male best friend. But John, the fool he was, had. 

 

He hadn’t known it a first, to him Paul was just a great mate. But as they grew closer it became and harder to ignore how he was starting to feel whenever he was close to the other man. Still, John managed it for years and years. He’d almost confessed in Hamburg, went to Paris to do it properly, chickened out, almost did it again in America, twice, but never actually did it. Its was John’s shameful secret that he was in love with Paul, and no one knew about it. Except Brian, ‘cause he’d figured out by himself the nosy bugger. But Eppy was dead now, topped himself by accident, and apart from that, it was a perfectly kept secret that would remain secret forever. Paul would never return his feelings and that was that.

 

Until it wasn’t.

 

* * *

 

They were tired after another day of filming Paul’s film, The magical Mystery Tour. John called it Paul’s film because he had no idea what the hell was going on most of the time. That might have been the drugs, though. 

 

Right now John and Paul were in Paul’s hotel room, sharing a bottle of scotch. They had run out of coke and weed, so the night wasn’t as amazing as they had hoped. Paul had been drinking considerably more than John, which was an odd occurrence. 

 

John stared at Paul as he poured himself another glass, it was his seventh one, “You sure you’ve poured enough, Paulie? There’s still some left in the bottle.” 

 

Paul raised his tired head, “Oh, tossit, Lennon.” He slurred as he raised his glass. 

 

“Why so much drinking tonight, Paul?” John asked in a carefully controlled voice, he didn’t want to sound too concerned. 

 

Paul smiled at him, “BecAuse, Jawn, issa parrty!”

 

John raised an eyebrow at him, “We’re the only ones here, Paul.”

 

Paul frowned at him and his eyes widened, “Where the people go?” He gaped, “They left?” The bassist seemed really broken up about it.

 

His friend couldn’t help but chuckle at Paul’s frankly adorable antics, “No, princess. They didn’t leave your party.”

 

Paul said nothing as he put his drink down and moved closer to John, staring at him with wondering eyes. 

 

John swallowed at the proximity but kept quiet. 

 

The younger man finally smiled and said, “Yer pretty, Johnny.” His voice was still mostly slurred but there was something clear about it now.

 

John forced a laugh and tried to keep his blush down. “Okay, now you’ve had too much.” He tried to stand up but Paul’s surprisingly strong hands stopped him. 

 

“No.” Said Paul, and his eyes turned sad. “You are, Johnny. I know you don’t believe it, Johnny. But yer pretty, Johnny.” He let out a giggle, “Johnny.” He laughed again. 

 

John looked at him, feeling both flattered and confused. It was no secret John thought he was ugly, but he actually thought that is was a well kept secret. But, as was about to be revealed, John was shit at hiding most of his well kept secrets. 

 

Paul was staring at him again, “Do you think I’m pretty, John?”

 

John slowly nodded at him, “Sure, luv. The prettiest Beatle, that’s what you are.”

 

Paul smiled brightly at him. “I like when you call me pretty.” He frowned, “I don’t like it when the press does, because they’re,"- he hiccuped-"they’re mocking me.” He shook his head, “I don’t like to be mocked.”

 

John thought about all the names the press had called him: fat, lazy, selfish, freak. All of them had hurt deep inside him. He put an arm around Paul, “I know you don’t, Paul.”

 

Paul leaned back against John’s chest. “I think you’re pretty too.”

 

John did laugh this time, “Yes, you said.”

 

Then Paul tensed and coughed. 

 

“You okay?” John asked. 

 

Paul didn’t answer for a while. Then he looked down, “Is that why you look at me, John?”

 

The older man frowned, “Eh?”

 

Paul shrugged, “Is just, I’ve see you looking at me. When you think I can’t see ya. You look at me...like I’m pretty.”

 

John had tensed as well, “Don’t know what you mean.”

 

Paul turned to face him, eyes wide. “Don’t be upset, Johnny, please.” Then he turned red as he looked down, “I look at you too.”

 

John’s breath caught, “...what?” He breathed. What was happening?

 

Paul frowned at himself, “I don’t know why I do it. I just like looking at ye, but it happens a lot.” He shook his head, “I tried to stop, but I can’t help it.”

 

“When do you look?” John decided to test the waters. 

 

Paul snapped his head up at him and tilted it as he watched John. “Why'd you ask?”

 

John shrugged, “Just curious.” And anxious.

 

Paul thought hard for a moment, his forehead wrinkling adorably. “When you sleep.” He said finally, “I like to look at ye when you sleep, you look relaxed and happy.” He frowned at John, “You never look happy when you’re awake anymore.”

 

John stared, “That’s not true.”

 

But Palu nodded insistingly, “No, it is! You never smile anymore, Johnny. Your smile used to light up rooms, but you never smile anymore.”

 

The older man looked at the ground. He supposed it was true. He hadn’t had much reason to smile recently. What with the awful tours and the boring spanish film and Eppy’s death. “I’ll try to smile more, Paul, for you.” 

 

Paul laid his head down on John’s shoulder again. There was silence for a few seconds. Then, “I also stare when you’re swimming.”

 

John forced himself to remain calm, “Oh?”

 

Paul felt warm to the touch, “I like you wet.”

 

Yeah, no way John was going to remain calm after that was said. He sat up straighter, “What do you mean?”

 

Paul shrugged, “I don’t know...you look good.” He laughed, “Better than good.”

 

John laughed along, his hopes raising. “Really?”

 

Feeling encouraged, Paul nodded. “And your arse looks great.”

 

John laughed again, “Well, thank you.”

 

Suddenly, Paul turned so that he was facing John and stared at him with unblinking eyes. Then, in a clear voice, “Does my arse look great too, John?”

 

Thrown by the movement and the question, John took a moment to answer. “I...yes.” He said, “Your arse is”-Perfection-“great.”

 

Paul kept on staring at him as he reached for one of John’s hands that were sitting in the back of the couch. Slowly, he set it the curve of his ass and held it there. “Does it feel great?” He whispered.

 

John resisted the urge to squeeze the full bottom. He just settled for a shaky nod, “Ye-es.”

 

Paul smiled slowly, “Good.” 

 

They sat there for what could have been ten minutes, Paul practically straddling John as they stared into each other’s eyes. 

 

John took a breath, “I think I should g-” But he was interrupted by a pair of lips on his. Paul’s lips. He floundered for a moment. What was the protocol for when a best friend you have been in love with for almost a decade suddenly kissed you? Did you kiss back? Especially if they were drunk.

 

Paul frowned at him, “Why don’t ya kiss back?”

 

John let out a nervous laugh, “You shocked me.”

 

The younger man hummed. 

 

John sighed, “You’re drunk, Paul. You don’t know what you’re doing.” It killed him to say it.

 

But Paul’s fierce response surprised him. “No!” He said and poked at John’s chest, “I love you, I’ve been waiting for years to do this! And I know you have been too.” 

 

John choked on his spit, “I…” What had Paul just said? Love?

 

Paul rested his forehead against his, “You can’t lie to me, John. You never could.”

 

John licked his lips, still trying to wrap his mind around what he’d just heard,, “Have you really..been waiting for years?”

 

Paul nodded slowly, “Uhuh.” 

 

“And you really wanna do this?”

 

Paul rolled his eyes, “Uhuh.”

 

John bit his lip, “Really?”

 

The younger man had enough and ground his hips against John’s, getting a choked gasp in return. “Just shut up, and kiss me.”

 

And John did.

 

* * *

 

Paul woke up with one of the worst hangovers he’d ever had, and it was no exaggeration. What had happened the night before? He’d gone with John to have a few drinks, but it looked like he’d had one too many. 

 

Paul groaned and opened his eyes, finding the bright green ceiling of the hotel room too strong to bear, and hissed at the throb in his head. Then he registered a weight on his side, weighing down his left arm. He blearily raised his head and looked to his side then frowned again, there was someone there with him? Shit, who’d he sleep with? It’s not like he’d been giving the eyes to any of the extra girls. He blinked a few times to clear his head and sat up a bit then gaped. That was no girl, the chest was flat and the hair too short. Actually, the hair was a bit familiar… Holding his breath, Paul moved the head of the person back a smidge then immediately let it back down. The singer gulped, was that..was that John? John Lennon, his partner, his friend. Why was John Lennon naked in his bed? What the Hell had Paul said? Whatever he felt for John was supposed to be well hidden and buried. After all, there was nothing good about falling in love with a man, any man. Paul was certain he’d moved on long ago.

 

Paul sat up trying to ignore how John’s head fell to his thigh, and put his head in his hands. What on earth had gone on last night? Had they just fallen asleep on the same bed? It had happened before, but never naked. It was just too suspicious. He held his breath as his friend started to stir.

 

John’s eyes blinked open and he stared up at Paul with unfocused eyes. But soon a wide smile took over his face and he said, “Mornin’ Paulie, last night was amazing.”

 

Paul stared down at him, “I…”

 

John sat up with a concerned look, “Hey, I know this is a big step for you.” He put his hand on Paul’s arm, “And I understand if you want to take it slow, even if you were very eager last night.” He chuckled with a dirty smirk. “I’m just happy to be with you, finally.” He put a gently kiss on Paul’s shoulder.

 

Paul thought for a moment. It was clear that he and John had slept together the night before, and John remembered it quite well. And didn’t mind. At all. ‘Finally’ he said. Did he feel for Paul as Paul did for him? Could it be possible? What had Paul said goddamit? He let out a nervous laugh but smiled, “I, er, I’m happy too.”

 

John smiled at him adoringly and leaned close to hug him. Thank god he didn’t try to kiss Paul, the younger man wouldn’t have been comfortable with that.

 

* * *

 

They were in the middle of filming and the day was bright. John was prancing all over the place, talking with everyone and confusing them as well. 

 

Paul watched in amusement and was joined by Ringo, who was lighting a smoke.

 

“Our John seems to be in a good mood.” The drummer spoke.

 

Paul reddened slightly, “Yeah.”

 

Ringo frowned, “What’d you think had him this way? He’s been downright miserable lately.”

 

Paul shrugged, “No idea. Good night’s sleep I imagine.” And he supposed, he was right.

 

In that moment John came over with a bright smile and a strong wave. In reaching them, he leaned against Paul who awkwardly patted his back. “How’s it hanging, fellas?” He faked an American accent.

 

Ringo smiled in amusement, “You’re acting so cheery today, John.”

 

“Am I?” The man said, “Well,” He smiled at Paul adoringly, “I’ve good reason to.”

 

Paul smiled faintly at the ground, worried that John was going to spill too much.

 

“Oh yeah?” Ringo encouraged, but was interrupted by Paul.

 

Paul coughed and grabbed John arm, “Yeah, can I speak with you, John?” He smiled at the drummer, “Excuse us, eh Richie?”

 

“Sure, lads.” 

 

“Bye, Ringo.”

 

Paul led John away with perhaps a bit too much urgency.

 

John smiled as he was dragged, “Oh, I like it when you’re rough.” Then he giggled and leaned close, “But then again, you already knew that.”

 

They stopped. “Yes, about that John.” Paul started.

 

John looked at him and brushed aside a lock of hair, happy to finally be able to touch Paul whenever he wanted without fear. He hummed to show he’d heard.

 

Paul sighed, “Look, I’m happy you’re happy..about this. But you need to be more discrete.”

 

John frowned, “Why? It’s like Ringo will mind.”

 

“Yes, but that’s Ringo. This is bigger than us, John. Everything can be used against us.” Paul wanted him to understand without revealing his own doubts about the whole thing. “This isn’t exactly...accepted.”

 

John groaned, “It’s perfectly legal, Paul.” It had just become legal, sure, but it was.

 

Paul let out a breath, “John, you said we could take it slow, yeah? So please, for me.” He made his puppy eyes, they were his most effective weapon.

 

John melted but his tone was still disappointed as he spoke, “Alright.” He looked down, “I’m sorry.”

 

Paul felt sorry for him and softly rubbed his arm, “Thank you.” He dared to lean forwards and place a small kiss on his cheek, enjoying watching John turn red afterwards.

 

John leaned forwards for a proper kiss but Paul moved away and started to walk back towards the others, “Let’s return, shall we? Can’t get delayed.”

 

Feeling dejected and confused, John followed reluctantly.

 

* * *

 

It was nighttime now, and Paul was getting ready for bed. He was just taking off his shirt when there was a knock on his door. He groaned, was it one of the crew with more questions about the plot or props or whatever? When would they understand that Paul had no actual idea what the hell was going on? They were making a film and they would figure stuff out as they got to it. He waited for a moment but the knocks persisted, so he stood up from the bed and went to open it.

 

To his shock (Though really, he should’ve seen it coming) John was there. He was wearing his clothes, though they were covered by one of his sleep robes.

 

Paul stared, “Oh, John. Hey.”

 

John looked him up and down, “Well, ‘ello Paul.” He looked up and wiggled his eyebrows, “Can I come in?”

 

Paul looked around them, it was dark outside, “Now?”

 

John let out an amused laugh, “Yes, now.”

 

“S’a bit late, no?” Paul scratched his elbow.

 

The older man stared at him, “What’s wrong?” He asked in a concerned tone.

 

Paul sighed, “Nothing, it’s just…”

 

John raised a hand to stop him, “Paul, we don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do. Alright?” He reddened, “I, eh, just wanna cuddle. Promise.”

 

Paul nodded, “I know.” He didn't really, seeing as he had no idea what had gone on the night before.

 

John raised his eyebrows, “Then? Let me it..please?”

 

The younger man moved aside and John hurried in. Quietly, they got ready for bed. Paul choosing to keep his pajama pants on for once. John took off his shirt and trousers, getting into bed with only his boxers and his robe. He waited for Paul to lay down first, then curled around him with his head ending up on Paul’s shoulder.

 

“G’night, Paulie.” John whispered.

 

“...Night, Johnny.” Paul didn’t really sleep that night, too preoccupied about what he was going to do with this whole thing. John was married and he was supposed to be getting married to Jane soon, when he got the courage to actually propose. This thing couldn’t work out, not for long. He just hoped John realized that too.

 

* * *

 

They had just finished filming part of the sequence for ‘Your Mother Should Know,’ it would have to be finished at Twickerham. Still, the boys had been wearing their white suits, looking more like each other than they had in the past months. At the moment, everyone had gone off to get lunch and Paul was about to join them when a hand touched his shoulder. He turned.

 

John smiled shyly at him and offered a hand, “Can I have this dance?” Usually, a joke would come along with it, but nothing was coming to mind.

 

Paul smiled at the ground and after looking around to see if anyone was left, took it. “Sure.”

 

They started to dance slowly and awkwardly, neither of them knowing how to actually waltz. The Paul started humming a little tune and it became easier after than. 

 

With a hand on Paul’s shoulder and another holding his hand, John started to move them further around the room. Soon enough, they were spinning. Paul started to giggle as they tripped over each other’s feet, his humming becoming louder and soon becoming full on vocalizing. Then, in an impulse, he moved aside and started to twirl John under his arm. 

 

John twirled more than a couple times, smiling all the while. Then he returned to Paul’s arms, with his back against Paul’s chest. They started to dance like that, Paul moving them forwards and backwards. He turned John back around and held him close. The dance got slower as they focused on looking into each other’s eyes but they still moved. 

 

John licked his lips, “Dip me.” He said.

 

And Paul did, with grace he didn’t know he possessed, he let John fall from his arms and into the floor holding only his arm. 

 

John, to his credit, did not flinch as he fell and held on strongly to Paul’s hand. He panted as he started up at Paul.

 

The younger man had long since stopped his humming and started to kneel at John’s side. His hand running down John’s arm and into his body. Once he was kneeling, looking down at a an expectant John, he licked his lips. “I’d, uh, I think I’d like to kiss you now.”

 

John could only nod in response.

 

Paul laid down properly, partly on top of John and brushed aside a lock of hair. Then he moved to connect their lips.

 

John whimpered as their lips made contact, it was even better than the first time, what with there being no taste of alcohol this time. Paul’s lips were plump and, while bitten, soft. He opened his own mouth and allowed Paul’s tongue to sneak inside as he raised his hand ran in down Paul’s back, resting it on the younger man’s hip. 

 

Paul ended the kiss and looked down at John. Neither of them said anything, waiting for the other to speak. 

 

After a few more seconds, John squeezed Paul’s hip. “I love you.” He said to the man above him. He hadn’t actually said it the night they got together, that had been Paul.

 

Suddenly, Paul tensed and started to move away. This wasn’t good. John couldn’t love him, that would only complicate things and make it more difficult to end this. He stood up.

 

John stared up at him and raised himself up on his elbows, “Paul?”

 

Paul shook his head, “Don’t say that.”

 

John let out an incredulous laugh, “Why? It’s true.”

 

The younger man groaned into his palm and shook his head.

 

John stood up and frowned at him, “ _ You  _ said you loved me first.”

 

Paul straightened his jacket and avoided John’s gaze as he said, “Listen, I gotta go.”

 

“Paul-”

 

“Bye, John.” Paul walked towards the entrance rapidly, hoping John wouldn’t follow him.

 

And John didn’t. He just stood there for minutes, upset and baffled. What had he done wrong?

 

* * *

 

Paul was pacing up and down the length of his room, the door locked with a ‘Do Not Disturb’ sign. He was thinking about the issue with John. The relationship. Clearly, while Paul had been drunk he’d convinced John that he loved him. But Paul wouldn’t say that sober, it just wasn’t something he could accept. Accepting that he was attracted to man was hard enough, loving one? It went against everything he’d been raised to believe. Paul had a hard time with even other people doing it, like Eppy. He couldn’t be in love with John or vice versa. It would create all kinds of problems with the band and the press and their families...they just couldn’t risk it.

 

But he couldn’t deny how he’d while while he had been dancing with John. It had been a feeling of total freedom and joy, all his worries gone and buried. Paul had never felt that way with Jane, always worried about his sayings and movements. He supposed it wasn’t a new thing, he had always been able to be himself with John. There was also something about the smiles John had been giving him the past few days, they were so adoring and beautiful. It almost didn’t seem right that Paul be the recipient of such affection. Those smiles gave him such a feeling of pride and gratification, they always had. He’d caused that, a beautiful smile. John hardly ever smiled any more. 

 

Perhaps, if Paul was willing to go crazy, he could make it work with John. He didn’t think that he could handle it if John fell into another depressive episode, especially if it was his fault. John didn’t deserve that, he’d been willing to accommodate Paul in every way and how did Paul repay him? By leaving him alone to rot. God knows what John was thinking right now, probably blaming himself for Paul being an indecisive git.

 

With that, he decided to go and find John. Apologize for leaving him and ask him to give Paul another chance. Maybe, just maybe, they could make it work for a while longer. 

 

* * *

 

He found John well into the night, in front of a bonfire that had been surrounded by extras and crew earlier. Now John was alone, sitting with his knees close to his chest and staring into the distance, a melancholic look on his face.

 

Paul made sure to make his footsteps pronounced so as to not startle John. Slowly, he sat down on the log next to where John was sitting. “Hey.” He said meekly.

 

John didn’t answer. 

 

For a moment, Paul figured John was off inside his head. He tended to do it and once he was inside, it took some effort to wake him up. But once he saw John’s flicker down, he realized that the older man was intentionally ignoring him. 

 

Paul sighed quietly, “I’m sorry about earlier, John. I was just...overwhelmed. With the dance and the feelings and what you said…I’m sorry.”

 

John was quiet for a few moments, still not looking at Paul. Then, “You don’t love me, do you?”

 

Paul turned away and started to play with his foot, drawing nonsense in the dirt. “Truth is, I’m not sure. This is all new to me, John.” 

 

His partner nodded towards the ground, “Yeah I, I get that.”

 

Paul turned to look back at him, “But,” He started, “I do know I like it, and I want to give it a try. Give us a try.”

 

John finally moved to look at him, his eyes wide with disbelief and hope. “Really?” He asked.

 

Paul chuckled, “Yes. Really.” And leant forwards.

 

He caught John’s lips in a kiss, much more passionate than the one earlier. John tasted like gum and smoke and christ, it was hot. Kissing John was unlike kissing any woman, better even. Gently, he started to push John down into the dirt, the older man pliant in his arms. 

 

John raised his leg and wrapped it around Paul as he ran his fingers through Paul’s soft hair, it was all those products he used. 

 

Paul held on to John’s cheek as he grinded his hips down, relishing in the choked gasp that interrupted their kiss. 

 

John moaned at the friction between their two bodies, “Paul…”

 

His partner had moved his lips down to John’s neck and was placing soft kisses and licks here and there(and everywhere). 

 

John moved his arms to grasp at Paul’s ass and squeezed, getting a soft groan in return. He started to caress his lover’s back. “Paul…”

 

Paul bit down on John’s neck and started to suck at the skin. 

 

John let out a high pitched sound he would forever deny and was practically trembling as he laid under Paul. “Princess, please…”

 

Paul lifted his head after leaving a kiss on top of the sensitive (and rather large) hickey he’d left behind. It would be hell to hide in the morning. “Yes, Johnny?”

 

John swallowed under Pauls lustful gaze, “Should we-ah”- Paul had pressed down on his hardened cock- “Should we go to…to your room?”

 

Paul was silent for a moment, then smiled wolfishly. “Why, Johnny? Afraid people are gonna come here and see you like this? All hot and dirty for me?” 

 

John whined and nodded his head. In truth he was more worried about a bug crawling up his arse, but whatever got Paul going was good enough for him. 

 

His partner awwed and ran a hand down John’s face, “Oh, it’s okay, Johnny. You don’t have to be embarrassed.” He truly had no idea what he was saying, it often happened that he lost all control and self-restraint in bed. He leaned down to whisper in John’s ear, “Don’t you want them all to see who you belong to?” He bit down on the lobe, “Don’t you want them to know you’re mine?” 

 

John let out a shaky breath and nodded jerkily, “Ye-es...sir.”

 

Paul shivered at the name and let out a moan. He was quick to stand up and drag John up with him. “Well, as much as I’d love that too, we can’t get too crazy, luv.” He winked, “Yet.”

 

John’s knees were weak as he stared at Paul, but he stepped closer anyways. “Sir?” He whispered.

 

Paul’s eyes were hooded, “Yeah, pet?” The name play seemed natural to this scenario. (A scenario non-horny Paul would be blushing about and he surely would be in the morning.)

 

John offered him a small, nervous smile, “Is this real?” Perhaps it was all a dream, a figment of John’s wild and cruel imagination. 

 

Paul turned serious, “Yes, John. This is real.” Then he stepped closer and grabbed John’s hair, bringing him closer, “Now, come let me show you how real.”

 

John hissed in both pain and pleasure at the tight hold and nodded quickly. “Yes, sir.”

 

Paul smirked, they were about to have a good night. 


	2. Punishment

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so this story is going to have little time skips, like it will be pretty close but its not day by day. And I promise more plot is coming this is just like a sexy interlude with chips of plot. Yay

They had hated it. The public had hated their film. The reviews had been atrocious and cruel, saying that the Beatles had finally lost it. Their minds and their fame. 

 

Paul was currently sitting on his kitchen table, head in hands. 

 

John was sitting in front of him, hands wrapped around a mug of tea. “It’s not all bad, Paul.”

 

The younger man groaned, “Oh, yeah. Give me one person that’s said something good about it.”

 

John shrugged, “I liked it.”

 

“Of course you did. You’re in it.” 

 

His lover humphed, “I didn’t like ‘How I Won The War’ and I fuckin’ starred in it.”

 

Paul raised his head, “I guess.”

 

John took his hand, “Look, we had fun making it. Plus, it served to, y’know, get us together.” He wiggled his eyebrows.

 

Paul squeezed his hand and offered a small smile, “Yeah.”

 

Seeing that his lover still wasn’t quite convinced, John continued, “We did our best.”

 

Paul looked down at the table. “What if they’re right?” He whispered, “What if we’ve lost it?”

 

John scoffed, “Don’t be ridiculous, we’re the bloody Beatles!”

 

Paul raised his eyebrows and looked out the window, “Don’t really know what that even means any more.”

 

John decided that his partner needed a more physical type of reassurance and he stood up. He walked around the table, getting in the submissive mindset. Once he reached Paul he started to rub his arms, “Is there anything I can do...sir?”

 

Paul sighed, “I’m sorry, Johnny. Not really in the mood.” His mind was too preoccupied with business and press matters. Perhaps people were right and they’d go under without Brian. Was that really all the had been for years? Puppets?

 

John internally rolled his eyes. Of course Paul was in the mood, he was always in the mood. “Are you sure, sir?” He simpered as he walked in front of Paul as best as he could without hitting the table.  

 

Paul shook his head, closing his eyes to avoid looking at John’s handsome figure. “I’m too wired.” He tried.

 

John smiled innocently as he started to kneel down and get under the table, “I can make you relax…”

 

“John, seriously- _ christ _ .” John wasn’t playing around, licking and pressing down on Paul’s dick. 

 

“Do you want me, sir?” Came John’s voice from under the table. He started to suck at the clothed manhood.

 

Paul was about to answer when Martha entered the kitchen. Immediately he moved away from John. “No, wait.”

 

John frowned from his position, “What’s wrong?” No one had refused his blow jobs before. (Those ‘no ones’ were Paul, a couple sailors in his youth, and Stu. Yes, Stu. Not that Paul knew about that.)

 

Paul helped him up, “I can’t do this in front of Martha.”

 

John burst out laughing, “Oh, so you can order me around and tie me up, but you can’t do it in front of the dog.”

 

Paul was blushing, “Yeah, I know. It’s just a thing.” It was just too weird to have animal there while you were...doing it. But John’s words had reminded him of something. “Speaking of though, I have a surprise for you, pet.”

 

John perked up at the nickname. He raised an eyebrow, “Oh?”

 

Paul nodded slowly as he moved closer. He ran a hand down John’s body, “Uhuh. You know how you’re always having trouble keeping that pretty little mouth of yours shut? And people start to wonder what all those  _ noises _ were?”

 

John scoffed, “Excuse me, last I checked I was not the loud one in this relationship,  _ someone- _ ” He was interrupted by Paul’s hand coming over his mouth.

 

Paul gently shook John’s face with his hand, “This is what I mean, pet. You need to learn to be quiet.”

 

John’s eyes wrinkled and he licked Paul’s palm like a dog, laughing as Paul moved it away in disgust. “Princess.” He said.

 

But he wasn’t laughing when Paul grabbed his hair and pulled him close, “You think you’re funny, John?” He pulled at the hair and smiled at the pleasured but pained hiss he got. “Oh, I promise you won’t be laughing in a few minutes. I’ll have you begging and crying, pet, just you wait.” Then he dragged John’s arm and dragged him upstairs, the older man very eager in following him, going up even faster than Paul.

 

Once they got in the bedroom, Paul let go of John. “Strip.” He ordered.

 

But John just stood there. He smirked, “What for? Are you going to spank me, princess?”

 

Paul was in front of him in an instant and he reached down to grasp John’s hard dick. He squeezed, “Do what I say, pet, or you’ll get twice the punishment.”

 

John gasped, “Okay.”

 

Paul squeezed harder, “What was that?”

 

His pet closed his eyes, “Yes, sir.”

 

Paul let go, “That’s better. Now strip.”

 

John, for once, obeyed and he started to remove his many layers with excited hands.

 

“On the bed, on your back.” Came the next order as Paul turned away and entered his closet looking for their bag of ‘stuff’ (no, not the weed this time).

 

John did as told, his toes curling in anticipation. He remembered the first time Paul had ‘punished him’ after John had yelled at Ringo in a moment of stress. It had been agony, but delicious. Last time Paul had spanked him until he couldn’t sit without shouting, what was he planning this time?

 

Paul came out with the bag in hand and smirked when he saw John, “Good boy.” He said. 

 

John preened at the praise.

 

Paul finally got what he wanted and laid them out on the couch, “Hands up, legs wide.”

 

It was amazing how well John followed his orders, not even blinking at the words. 

 

Paul started with the feet, tying them to the tall bedposts. Since this was a punishment and John had to be still, they were tighter than usual, but not tight enough to seriously hurt. Then he went for the hands, tying them together first and then to the headboard. He licked his lips, “Aren’t you a delight?” He said. “You’re gorgeous, Johnny.”

 

John smiled softly, even in the sexual setting they were in, Paul never failed to make him feel wanted and beautiful.

 

Paul’s gaze turned hard again soon. “Now, open up.” He started to take something out of a bag. 

 

When John saw it, he gaped.  _ Oh _ , so this is what Paul had meant. He opened his mouth up widely.

 

Smiling in approval, Paul covered it with the large red ball gag and strapped it behind John’s head. He leaned down to kiss it, “Thank you, pet.” He raised his eyebrows, “Tap the headboard twice if you want to stop.”

 

John nodded. God, the thing was big. John’s jaw would be aching soon. 

 

Paul’s gaze turned even more mischievous as he grabbed something else off the bag. “I had been waiting to try this out, and this is the perfect opportunity.” 

 

John couldn’t really see what Paul was doing as he moved away, but soon enough he felt something wet touch his entrance. He let out a muffled moan, did Paul call this punishment?

 

Paul grinned at the moan and laughed quietly. His pet had no idea what was coming. Slowly, so as to give John time to adjust, he started to insert it.

 

John groaned, something was entering him and it definitely wasn’t Paul’s dick. It felt colder and more rubbery-oh. 

 

Paul started to twist his little (expensive) apparatus inside John, stopping just short of his prostate. 

 

John mewled from behind the gag, craving that extra bit of pleasure.

 

And then suddenly, Paul stood up. He ran a hand down John’s face and patted his cheek, “Have fun, pet.” And walked away.

 

John frowned at his retreating back. What was Paul doing? Leaving him there with that thing up his hole, what was he supposed to do- His thoughts were interrupted by the cry his mouth let out. Shit, was the thing  _ vibrating _ ? Yes, that it was. If he strained his ears, he could even hear it. Damn, it was intoxicating. His cock hardened even more. 

 

At first, he could handle it with minor problems, the buzzing an interesting but mild annoyance. But then the vibrating got stronger and faster, and then even more. Paul had to be controlling it from wherever he was. John had started to rub his arse down on the bed but it was no use, it didn’t move the damn thing a millimeter near his prostate. The pleasure was so close, but John was stuck with that instead. He was moaning like a whore behind the gag by now, pulling at his restraints with passion.

 

Minutes passed, certainly more than half an hour. And Paul was still not back.

 

* * *

 

Paul was down in the living room, playing a cheery little tune on the piano. He had left John like that for more than fifteen minutes. He was taking a sip of rich wine when he started to hear thumps come from upstairs. He grinned into his glass and got up. The thumps got louder as he got up the stairs and as he pressed the final botton on his little controller, he was certain he heard a muffled wail. 

 

As he stood in the entrance to the room, he could see John pulling at the cuffs. Whimpering and howling like a banshee in heat. His head was plastered to his forehead with sweat and his toes were curled. His ass bounced up and down the bed, John mewling every time it touched down. 

 

Paul was about to relieve him when he heard his doorbell ringing. Paul frowned, seriously? The ringing sounded rather insistent so he decided to go down. His pet could last a little more, though he did lower the settings. Just a tad. 

 

He opened the door a notch while at the same time trying to hold Martha back. “Hello-stop it, girl!” He forced an innocent smile, “Yes?”

 

The postman stood there. He was now forced to enter Paul’s property to deliver the post because the fans outside had started to steal it. The singer used to have a lock, but they had somehow broken it. 

 

Mr. Hoologan smiled kindly at him and held up a bag, “Here’s your post, Mr. McCartney.”

 

Paul thanked him, “I’ve told you to call me Paul.”

 

“Then you most call me Tim, I insist.”

 

Paul smiled, “Alright, Tim. Thank you.” He took the bag and got it inside with s bit of difficulty, seeing as Martha still seemed insistent on going out. “No girl, I took you out to do your business an hour ago.”

 

Tim laughed, but then stopped. “What was that?”

 

Paul had heard it too, a large thump. He laughed nervously, “What was what?” It was definitely not his tied up boyfriend being pleasured/tortured by a vibrator in his bedroom. No.

 

Another thump was heard, “That.” Said Tim, he frowned, “Is everything alright?”

 

“Yes, of course. It’s just my dog.” Paul laughed, “My other dog, not really house trained yet.”

 

Time smiled and relaxed, “Oh, I see. Well, goodbye, Paul.”

 

“Goodbye, Tim. Thank you for the post.” Paul shut the door, threw the bag in the general direction of his living room and hurried upstairs. Maybe Martha would eat it, but it was nothing he hadn’t dealt with before.

 

He ran into the room to find the bed practically jumping up and down with John. His lover was sweating all over, his muffled moans sounding more like sobs and when Paul got closer he could see tears falling down his face. 

 

Paul cooed and turned off the device, John visibly relaxing and opening his eyes. He glared up at Paul with teary eyes. 

 

Paul smiled apologetically and went to remove the gag, “I’m sorry, luv. I didn’t mean to leave you like this for so long.”

 

John stretched his mouth and licked his lips a couple of times. He could feel saliva all over his chin. It had been absolute agony, but he hadn’t tapped the headboard. (Though he wondered how Paul would have heard him if he had)

 

Paul rubbed John’s face, hoping he hadn’t screwed things up. “Can you forgive me, darling?”

 

John sighed and said in a hoarse voice, “Just shut up and fuck me.” That thing was still inside him and it was driving him insane.

 

Paul smiled in relief and amusement, then leaned down to press a kiss on John’s waiting lips. “Thank you, John.” He raised an eyebrow, “Did you learn your lesson?”

 

John huffed, “Oh, don’t worry, sir. The message got across loud and clear.”

 

Paul smiled and went to get the lube.

 

* * *

 

“George invited me to India.” Said John from where he was resting on the bed, Paul’s head on his chest. 

 

Paul stopped from where he was drawing invisible people on John’s stomach. “India?”

 

John hummed, “Yeah.”

 

“Are you going?”

 

John thought about it, “I’m not sure. The Maharishi seemed like he knew what he was talking about.”

 

Paul hummed. The Maharishi had sounded like that, but his methods were hard for Paul, whose head was always being pulled in a million directions.

 

“Come with me.”

 

Paul raised his head, “Whot?”

 

John shrugged tirely, still exhausted from earlier, “Why not? You, me, George, we invite Ringo...make it an outing. Go to India and find inner peace.”

 

Paul chuckled, “Wouldn't that be nice?” He rested his head on the pillow next to John’s now.

 

John curled up to him, “So? What do you say? It’ll help you relax.”

 

Paul groaned, “I don’t know, Johnny…”

 

John nudged him, “Oh, come on, princess. I’ll make it worth your while.” He widened his eyes, “Please, for me?”

 

Paul sighed, John had really gotten good at the puppy eyes. Damn, he’d taught him well. “Oh, alright then. We’ll all go. Get peace and all tha’”

 

John grinned and pressed a kiss to his cheek, “Thank you.”

 

Paul smiled with closed eyes. “G’night, Johnny.”

 

John curled up closer to him and smiled as well, “Goodnight, Paulie.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments and kudos keep a writer alive!


	3. India

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> im iffy about this chapter, this just needed to happen so i could get on to the more important plot

India was hot. Beautiful, but hot. The camp was near the Ganges river and it was surrounded by trees.  Ringo had only lasted ten days, citing stomach problems. Poor bloke, he was allergic to so much. It was a very well established camp, but Paul didn’t know how much longer he could last. As much as he respected the Maharishi, it wasn’t really his scene. Paul had a really hard time concentrating enough to meditate and during the man’s lectures. Still, the atmosphere was relaxing. It would have been more relaxing without Jane and Cynthia there, as much as it made him guilty to admit it, because that meant that he and John had to be really careful whenever they did something together. That was another thing, it was really hard to be alone in the camp, with so many duties and activities. 

 

But that day the girls had arranged to have a night together, and so he and John could finally get together. The small intervals they’d had truly alone hadn’t been enough for anything other than short kisses, not that those didn’t matter to Paul, but he needed more. They had written a bunch of songs, but usually George was there or Donovan, who was getting pretty close to Paul. He was a nice bloke and a very talented musician.  He was walking to his bungalow, where he’d told John to wait. He had a gift for his lover, he’d gotten it at a street market when they’d visited the city that was nearby. He really hoped that John would like it.

 

* * *

 

John was laying on Paul’s bed, completely naked. He’d laid out all their usual restraints out on the carpet Paul had next to his bed, not sure as to which Paul would use this time, or if he’d use any at all. He was very happy that he was finally going to spend some time with Paul alone, it had been so long. The entirety of this holiday they had spent surrounded by people, friends and new acquaintances. One of them being Donovan, Paul’s close new friend. John actually concerns about how close they were getting. Donovan seemed unable to leave Paul’s side and it was really getting on his nerves. Paul was  _ his _ , goddamnit. If only they could tell someone.

 

He was startled out of his thoughts by the door to the bungalow opening and Paul entering, his eyes darkening as he saw John’s bare body.

 

John smiled at him, “Finally able to get away, were you?”

 

Paul laughed, “Took me three songs, but yeah.” He had been singing to others around the campfire and they had begged for more and more each time he finished a song. The showman in Paul simply couldn’t refuse. He let the present appear from behind his back, it was inside a gold bag. 

 

John sat up at the sight. “Oh, is that for me, sir?” He naturally expected the gift to be of a sexual nature, as all his recent ones had been. 

 

Paul sat down on the bed, “Yeah, but it’s nothing like that.”

 

John frowned but excitement was rising in his chest. “Oh?”

 

Paul smiled down at the bed, “Yes.” He offered it.

 

His lover took it and reached inside the bag, where a lovely carved wooden box resided. He raised an eyebrow at Paul and opened it. He gasped at what was inside. It a lovely choker necklace made of what appeared to be gold embroidered together as if they were strings. He looked up at Paul speechless.

 

Paul smiled tentatively, “Do you like it?”

 

“I, I love it.” John sniffed, he couldn’t remember the last time someone had given him something so beautiful. “Could you put it on me?”

 

Paul did so gradly, waiting for John to turn around and lift his hair before gently reaching around and draping it across his neck. He close the latch and placed a soft kiss on John’s neck.

 

His lover shivered in response and Paul gently turned him around then kissed him. 

 

John melted into the kiss and was pliant in Paul’s arms as he was pushed down, his hair fanned around his head as he hit the pillow.

 

Paul looked down at his lover, delighting in the sight of his necklace being the only thing to adorn John’s body. He caressed John’s side, “I missed you.”

 

John smiled adoringly up at him, “I love you.” He responded.

 

Paul looked away for a moment then started to place kisses down John’s chest.

 

John sighed quietly. He was disappointed, but not surprised. Paul had yet to say anything back whenever John declared his love, but he knew he had to be patient. Paul was worth the wait. 

* * *

 

The next morning John woke up stupidly early with a sore backside and red wrists. He giggled as he remembered the night before, he had  _ really _ missed Paul. A snore came from beside him and he turned his head to see Paul’s blissful face being illuminated by the sun. John let out a sigh and stretched. 

 

As if on cue, Paul stirred as well. He groaned and his face scrunched up adorably. For man so wild in bed, he sure was a cutie afterwards. He  _ was _ the Cute Beatle. He opened his eyes and turned around to look at John. He smiled softly, “Hi.”

 

John smiled back and rested his head on his arms from where they laid on Paul’s bare chest. “Hi.”

 

Paul looked at his arms and frowned as he saw John’s wrists. He took them in hand, “Hell, did I do that? I’m sorry.” He looked up with guilt-ridden eyes.

 

John shrugged it off, “S’alright.” He smirked, “They remind me I belong to you. Forever.” He kissed Paul’s shoulder.

 

The younger man didn’t know how to take that in. John was always saying such devout things, some of them even sounded wrong. Like one night Paul had been acting rougher than usual and he’d said, ‘You could do anything to me and I would let you.’ Paul had decided to actually take it slow and gentle that night. He just didn’t understand where all this sudden devotion was coming from. Sure, they had their arguments about work and the band and the songs, but John always ceded to him in things concerning their private relationship. Always. In bed and in arguments. It came as a surprise to Paul considering the tumolous relationship John shared with Cynthia. Maybe it wasn’t healthy for John to be like that, it was very unlike him.

 

John looked at him, “Are you okay?”

 

Paul looked up at the ceiling and sighed, “Do you ever think that maybe we’re doing this wrong?”

 

John’s smile fell from his face and he froze. Tensely he asked, “What do you mean?”

 

Paul rubbed his eyes, “Are you happy, John?” He asked, “Don’t you think the relationship is a bit...unbalanced?”

 

John was quick to speak, “What? No! I’m happy to submit to you, I love you. I enjoy it.” 

 

“Yes, John. But stuff in bed is one thing.” He bit his lip, “But even beyond that I feel like you’re walking on eggshells around me, hiding your opinions, always agreeing to everything.”

 

“So what, you want us to fight?” John was frustrated. He spent so much effort trying to keep Paul happy so that he wouldn’t abandon John, and now the other man was complaining about it?

 

Paul groaned and sat up, “No, that’s not what I’m saying.”

 

“Than what?” John moved away and laid on the other side of the bed.

 

Paul looked down at him, “Are you hiding your feelings from me? So that I won’t get angry?”

 

John didn’t answer. Damn Paul and his ability to read him like a pathetic, open book.

 

The younger man saw the light sparkle off the necklace John was still wearing and swallowed. “That’s not right, Johnny. It’s okay to argue with your partner.”

 

John scoffed, “No, it’s not.” His marriage with Cynthia was basically over due to arguments. And arguments had ruined his parent's marriage and were the reason for the tenseness in Mimi's and Uncle George's marriage. 

 

Paul pushed down a wave of irritation. “There’s two of us here, what you feel is valid too. Even if I disagree.” It’s something his dad had always said to him and Mike, wanting them to have good and lasting relationships.

 

The older man let out a sad laugh, “You make it sound like we’re married.”

 

Paul shrugged lightly, “We are, in a way. We’re partners.”

 

That bothered John. He sat up abruptly, “No, we’re not. We’re never going to be able to get married. I know you, Paul McCartney. One day you’re going to get married to Jane or some other bird and you’ll leave me. You’ll move on and have a million children and you’re going to have one big happy family that I will never be a part of.” He stood up from the bed and went to where he’d left his clothes the night before. “So don’t say we’re married, ‘cause we’re most definitely not.”

 

Paul was at a loss, “Well, John, what did you expect? We can’t do this forever.” Then he remembered what John had said earlier. ‘I belong to you. Forever.’ And he remembered all the ‘I love yous’ he’d been unable to answer. John would never want to let this go, would he?

 

John shrugged on his Indian style shirt and went to the bedside table for his glasses, bumping into the bed as he went. “I don’t, I don’t know what I expected.” He swallowed, “Something magical, I guess.”

 

Paul stood up as well, “You don’t have to leave.”

 

The older man went to the door, “People will start to wonder. And you don’t want that, do you?” And with that he walked out.

 

Paul groaned in frustration. This was exactly what he wanted to avoid. It never did John any good to hide his feelings, he would just explode and misunderstand everything later. He fell back into his bed and looked at the ceiling. What could he do to both please John and keep the relationship realistic? Realistic meaning that it had to be kept secret and it couldn’t last forever. Both things that John was unhappy about. It wouldn’t be easy.

 

* * *

 

That day a helicopter came, the Maharishi was going to go up and would take one lucky passenger with him. John was standing a few feet away from Paul next to Cynthia, steadily avoiding the younger man’s gaze. When the Maharishi turned to look t the group to choose the passenger, John started jumping up and down like a manic. 

 

“Me, sir! Pick me, sir! Please, sir, pick me! Pick me!” He screeched. 

 

The others laughed at his childish antics, including the Maharishi who giggled and waved him over. Paul looked  on curiously, John hated to fly so why was he so eager?

 

As the helicopter lifted, John smiled widely at them and waved manically, nearly hitting the guru. All the people down below waved back in amusement, some with a certain jealousy. 

 

John’s breath  was taken by the gorgeous sight of the mountains and the river shining as the sunlight hit it. The clearing of a throat distracted him and he turned with a hum. 

 

In his high-pitched voice, the Maharishi asked him, “So, John, why did you want to come up here?”

 

John smiled sheepishly, “Hoped you might slip me the answer.” He joked. 

 

The guru shook his head in reprimand. “John…”

 

The singer giggled then cleared his throat, “No, I...I need advice.”

 

Maharishi hummed in encouragement. 

 

John looked out the window and sighed despondently. “I’m in a relationship, right? And it’s...complicated.”

 

“I assume this relationship is not with Miss Cynthia.” Maharishi spoke. 

 

John closed his eyes and shook his head. “No.” He opened them, “But it’s better.” There was a twinge of guilt at the statement but this was something he’d accepted long ago. 

 

“Then what is the problem?” The man’s tone was non judgemental. 

 

“This morning, h-she told me that the relationship was ‘unbalanced.’” John told him. 

 

Maharishi hummed, “In what way?”

 

John blushed and looked down, “Well, we play games...in bed...I submit to her, y’know.” The man probably  _ didn’t _ know and hell, this was awkward. 

 

“And you find this submission pleasurable?” Maharishi asked.

 

John nodded, “Yes,  _ yes _ . That’s not the problem.” He frowned out the window, “The thing is, according to her, I hide my feelings to avoid confrontation.” He looked at the guru, “I just don’t want to create conflict, I don’t want hi-her to leave. So I guess I ‘cede’ to him in most things.”

 

“And what are these feelings you hide? Your needs?”

 

John rubbed his eyes and thought for a moment. “Little things mostly, stuff about cleaning up, getting up, or not doing anything while working. She’s like that, controlling. Can’t help it, doesn’t even do it to annoy.” He looked down, “And...She’s never said ‘I love you’ apart from the night we got together, but she was drunk. It hurts me when I say it and she just...ignores it.” He sighed, “Then there’s the thing about nobody being able to know, not even the lads.”

 

“Your bandmates, you mean?” Maharishi said.

 

John nodded, “They wouldn’t mind, I know they wouldn’t. I don’t like to keep secrets, they fill me with anxiety.”

 

Maharishi nodded solemnly, “Anything else?”

 

John was silent for a few moments, staring at the green trees down below. “I would leave Cyn for her. No question. But...he won’t give up women for me, I know it.” The last was a whisper and it took him a while to register what he’d just uttered. When he did, he froze. 

 

He heard Maharishi giggle beside him, “No need to tense up, my boy.” He said, “I am not one to judge such things.”

 

John let out a relieved breath. 

 

Maharishi continued, “Now, it seems to me that you’ve been keeping these concerns to yourself for quite some time.”

 

John nodded, “A couple months now…But isn’t is for the best that we don’t argue?”

 

“Discussion is healthy, John.” Maharishi told him, “Your feelings are valid.”

 

“He said that too.” John said.

 

“Wise man.” Maharishi giggled. “Tell him your concerns, establish your boundaries and your demands. See if he can meet you in the middle, if he can’t...then perhaps it would be in both your best interests to cease this relationship. It is not good for the soul to stay in misery for the sake of another.”

 

John bit his lip, “But I don’t want to lose him.”

 

“John,” Maharishi started, “You deserve a person who is willing to meet your needs and you theirs. If Paul is not this person, you must find out now to save you both from heartache.”

 

John turned to him, “How did you-”

 

Maharishi gave him an unimpressed look.

 

John blushed, “I suppose it was rather obvious, yeah?”

 

“Yes.” Maharishi said.

 

They started their descent and John looked out the window. He didn’t look forward to the conversation he was going to have with Paul.

 

* * *

 

It was later that day that John knocked on the door of Paul’s bungalow. He took a deep breath as he waited. 

 

Paul opened the door with a frown but it faded as he saw him. “John?”

 

John held up what he had in his hand, “I brought bananas?” It sounded like a question. 

 

Paul let out a chuckle, “Come in.” 

 

John smiled shyly and gingerly went to sit in the bed. 

 

“Want a  smoke?” Paul asked, holding up a pack.

 

“Eh? No, I’m good.” John said, “Ta.”

 

Paul sat down next him, not lighting one for himself either. 

 

There was silence, then:

 

“I have to tell you-”

 

“I think we need-”

 

They laughed and looked away from each other. 

 

Paul nodded at him, “You first.”

 

John sighed, “Earlier, when I was up with Maharishi...I asked for his advice, about us. Told him about your concerns.”

 

Paul had tended, “You told him about us?”

 

John sighed at him, “He figured it out himself. And who’s he gonna tell, macca? This is one of the things we talked about, y’know.”

 

Paul looked at him, “What?”

 

John stood up and started to pace around. “He told me to tell you what I’ve been holding back. My, my needs. What I need from you for this to be more ‘balanced.’”

 

Paul nodded approvingly, “That’s good.”

 

John smiled briefly, “And then you tell me what you want and we see if we can meet each other in the middle.”

 

“Okay, I’m all for it.” Paul smiled at him. 

 

But John was looking at the floor, “And if we can’t...then he said to end this, to save us heartache.”

 

Paul’s smile fell, “Oh?” He choked out. 

 

John went to him, “But I’m sure we  _ can _ meet in the middle. I do my best, you do your best.” He grabbed Paul’s hand, “We’ll be okay, won’t we?”

 

If John’s needs were as Paul suspected, he wasn’t so sure. Still, he squeezed John’s hands. “Okay, you go first?”

 

“Sure.”  Said John and took a deep breath. “I don’t need you tell me you love me. Yet. I understand this is big for you and I don’t want you to feel pressured and end up saying it when you don’t actually mean it. But some acknowledgment when I say it would be appreciated.”

 

Paul felt guilty. “I’m sorry, John. I just get overwhelmed, I don’t want to say anything that might, might make you feel bad.”

 

“I won’t.” Promised John, “I get it.” He laughed, “I’ll be patient, just for you.”

 

“Is that it?” Paul asked.

 

John shook his head, “Eh, no. Another thing I’m okay with is not going public, for the band and the bad press.”

 

Paul sighed in relief, “Alright.”

 

“But,” Continued John, “I want George and Ringo to know. They deserve to know and it would make me much more comfortable if they did.” He looked down, “I don’t like to hide, not from them.”

 

Paul bit his lip. In theory, he knew that their mates would be cool with it. But there was still a fear left over. What if they weren’t? What if they decided that working with two queers was unbearable? Sure, Brian had been there before but this was different. He said nothing.

 

John startled to play with his hands, “And...I want us to be exclusive.”

 

Paul’s head snapped up in disbelief.

 

The older man raised a hand, “Listen, I’m going to leave Cynthia. It’s what’s best for both of us. It’s just not, not good anymore.” He looked up at Paul with a hopeful smile, “I’ll be completely free for you.”

 

The younger man shook his head at him, “No, don’t do this, John...Think of Julian.”

 

“We’ll share him!” John said, “I’m not abandoning him.”

 

Paul stood up and went to look out the window. He thought about Jane; he was supposed to propose to her and get married. Have kids and a lovely house. Just like John had said. She wasn’t really the woman he wanted to spend the rest of his days with, but after years of being together what would have been the point if he didn’t marry her? And the press would go insane if they heard the two separated, at the same time as Cyn and John no less. It would be a death sentence. 

 

John’s eyes searched the other man, “Paul?” He whispered.

 

The other man turned to look at him, eyes regretful. “I think I need some time, some time to think about it.”

 

“Oh.” John felt a lump on his throat so he cleared it. “I-I understand.” He nodded shakily. 

 

“I think it’s best if me and Jane leave India.” Said Paul, “Give us time to see...what we’re going to do.” 

 

John sniffed and moved slightly away, “‘kay.”

 

“And I’ve learned all I can from the Maharishi, it’s time to return home. For me.” Paul reached for John but the older man stood up. 

 

“Alright then, have a good trip home.” John was looking at the ground. He reached up to his neck and started to take off the choker necklace. 

 

Paul was quick to go to his side and stop him, “No, please. Keep it.” He offered a tiny smile, “It’s not over yet, Johnny.”

 

John’s eyes were shiny behind his glasses and he moved to kiss Paul. 

 

Paul welcomed the kiss and held him close, but it lasted barely a few seconds. 

 

John stepped away, “Goodbye, Paul.” Then he turned and walked out the door. And if a few tears left him eyes outside in the darkness, well that was his business. 

 

Paul was left with his arms wide, almost as if he were still hugging John. He went to his bed and threw himself there, deep in thought. He knew that if the band was to be okay he had to make the right choice? But would that choice make him happy?


	4. Come Together

The session had been tense to say the least. The Beatles were back in the studio after India and sure there had been smiles and a certain excitement, but things were slightly awkward. Everyone was different, even Ringo. They had learned things about the world and about themselves in India, things they were still processing. 

 

Paul and John hadn’t talked yet. John’s divorce had been announced to the public right after they’d gone to America to promote Apple, so that questions about it could be avoided. For the most part things were amicable, with Cynthia still staying at Kenwood and John staying in Ringo’s flat. John was eager to get divorced and so he didn’t argue much with Cynthia’s demands, he was happy to leave her the house or whatever she had asked for as long as things were over quick. It was at times like this that he missed Brian. 

 

Paul was still together with Jane, though they had not seen each other for over a months now while she was away at work. The truth was, the relationship wasn’t going anywhere. 

 

It was because of this that after George and Ringo had gone home and John was packing up his guitar, Paul approached him with a shy smile, “Hey.” He said. The two had hardly exchanged a word all day, it was all said to the other two, to George Martin, or to the air. 

 

John startled, his long hair bouncing. He looked at pair, eyes wide behind the lenses, “Oh, hey.”

 

Paul gripped the handle of his case hard, “I,I was wondering if you’d like to come to Cavendish. With me...obviously.” He was nervous, unsure if John was still willing to do anything with Paul after their tense goodbye in India. 

 

John’s heart leaped. He smiled, “Really?”

 

Paul grinned, “Yeah!” He looked down, “I, we need to talk I think.”

 

John’s smiled dimmed slightly, but he knew Paul was right. “Yeah.” he finished packing up his guitar and together the two set out. 

 

Before they went out the door however, Paul said to John, “I know I haven’t said it, but I like your hair like this. Long. It looks nice.”

 

John ran a sheepish hand through it, “Ta.” He blushed as he spoke. 

 

* * *

 

Paul was making them scotch and cokes, with a little more scotch than coke. 

 

Meanwhile John had sat down on the sofa and was petting an anxious Martha’s hair. “She looks happy to have you back.”

 

“What? Oh yeah.” Said Paul as he came back with the drinks, “I missed her too.” He gave John his drink. 

 

“Ta.” John took it and brushed back a lock of his hair, tucking it behind his glasses.

 

There was quiet. 

 

“So how’s-”

 

“I need to-”

 

They laughed and looked away from each other. 

 

John took a large gulp of his drink, thankful for the extra scotch. He nodded, “You go, then.”

 

Paul put down his drink and sat up straight, “I’ve been thinking about what you said to me. In India.”

 

John’s body was coiled, “Oh?”

 

Paul nodded, “Do you...do you want to know what I decided?” Perhaps John had moved on. Perhaps John didn’t want to be with Paul anymore.

 

But John only nodded, “Please.” His voice was a whisper.

 

Paul cleared his throat, “I was thinking that once the press moves on from Cyn and the divorce, I could- I will announce my separation from Jane. So that things don’t get crazy.”

 

John couldn’t breathe. He put down his drink shakily, “Wai- What? You’re-”

 

“Leaving Jane.” Said Paul with a tentative smile. “I’ll be completely free for you, Johnny.” He repeated John’s words from India.

 

A slow smile overtook John’s face. He faced Paul properly, “This is real?”

 

Paul raised a gentle hand and settled it in John’s cheek. “Oh it’s real, darling.”

 

John practically threw himself at Paul, pampering with him kisses. “I love you, I love you!” He finally kissed Paul’s waiting lips, straddling his lap. 

 

Paul was glowing. John had taken him back! Yes, they would be together and they would figure shit out later. Right now, they were happy. He ran a hand down John’s hair and pulled slightly, “I don’t want anyone else but you, Johnny.”

 

John took Paul’s hands and kissed him, “I can say the same.” Then, with a smirk, he grinded his hips down. “We ought to celebrate, yeah?”

 

Paul let out a strangled gasp, “O-Oh, yeah.” he nodded rapidly, “Yeah, yup. Let’s do that.”

 

John kissed him passionately, making Paul fall down into the cushions. 

 

Raising a hand to caress his lover’s back, Paul moaned into the kiss. 

 

John pulled away, running a thin hand along Paul’s chest. “What do you want, sir?”

 

“You, Johnny. Only you.” Paul let out a gasp as John’s ran his finger over his nipple. 

 

John got his hands under Paul’s shirt, nails digging into the skin. “Are you sure?”

 

Paul’s hands moved down to cover John’s ass and he squeezed, “Yes, baby. Only you.”

 

With a smile, John leaned down for a kiss as he started to remove his lover’s shirt, pausing only to take it over his head. He whispered into Paul’s ear, “Do we go to the bedroom, sir?”

 

Paul catched his breath and sat up, hands around John. “Great idea.” And he was standing up, carrying John.

 

John yelped and was quick to wrap his legs around Paul, “Macca! A little warning next time.”

 

Paul laughed and kissed him quickly, “You know you love it.” They had reached the stairs now.

 

John glared, but the sighed, “Maybe.”

 

Paul hoisted him higher, enjoying John’s gasp. “I have something you’ll love more.”

 

* * *

 

George wasn’t nervous. He might be pacing and rubbing his hands together, but he wasn’t nervous. No, he was just...excited. Yes, excited to have Bob visit him. He hadn’t seen his friend in a while and didn’t want the visit to go wrong. Bob was going to be staying for a few weeks, he was getting back on his feet after a couple of difficult months. Drugs, women, and press. Those were usually the stressors they encountered in this business. Pattie wasn’t home actually, she’d gone on holiday after a ‘small’ fight with George. She wasn’t thrilled with his obsession with India and his new philosophies, and the fact that after years of marriage she was still unable to have a child, it got to her...it hurt her. George didn’t know how to talk to her about it, not certain about how he felt about it himself. 

 

The ring of the door distracted him and George jumped. He stopped briefly to fix his hair on a mirror near the door, scoffed at himself, and went to open the door. 

 

Bob Dylan stood on the other side, wearing his usual sunglasses. He had a guitar in hand and a small suitcase behind him. He nodded, “Hello, George.”

 

George grinned and waved him in, “Come on in, Bobby. How was the trip?” It seemed wrong to have all this smalltalk, but George needed to say something. Why was he so anxious?

 

Only George could call him Bobby. Bob shrugged, “Alright.” He put his suitcase down, “Heard you’re back in the studio.”

 

George sighed, “Yeah. Another Lennon/McCartney masterpiece.” He regretted it the moment he said it. He didn’t want to sound petty and jealous, he was twenty five, he should be over all that. But still, the fact remained that despite as a writer those two didn’t truly pay him any mind. A word of encouragement sure, but it would be impossible to get more than two (if he was lucky) of his songs in the new record. And George Martin was no help, he’d hated Within You, Without You and probably thought no better of Blue Jay Way.

 

Bob frowned as he took out a cigarette, “Why do you say that?”

 

George huffed out a laugh, “Ignore me, I’m being immature.” A part of him longed for Bob to keep on asking.

 

But Dylan was not like that. He just shrugged, “If you say so.”

 

George said, “Want a tea?”

 

“Something stronger?” Bob offered what could have either been a hopeful smile or a pained grimace.

 

George laughed and gestured at Bob to follow, “Right this way then.”

 

* * *

 

The next day at the studio everyone was in a better mood. George has hardly slept since he’d stayed up all night talking music with Bob, but he didn’t mind at all. And John and Paul has gotten even less sleep, determined to reacquaint themselves with each other’s bodies. 

 

It was early and George Martin has gone off to retrieve some loops in another room. It was only the four of them.

 

Paul looked at John, who offered an encouraging smile. The bassist sighed but smiled back. He stood up and, gripping the neck of his violin bass tightly, said, “There’s something John and I want to tell you.”

 

George froze. Was something wrong?

 

Ringo looked up from his drumsticks, “Well?”

 

Slowly, Paul reached for John’s hand. He squeezed it, “We’re together.”

 

“As a couple, that is.” John clarified with a blinding smile. 

 

There was a silence. Then,

 

“Well, I’m glad you finally decided to tell us.” Came Ringo’s firefly voice.

 

Paul nearly dropped his instrument, “What, you knew?” He turned to John, “Did you tell him?”

 

John stood up, “No, of course not!” He crossed his arms, “I wouldn’t do that, Paul.”

 

His boyfriend sighed and rubbed a hand over his face, “I know, I’m sorry.”

 

George spoke up tensely, “If it makes you feel better,  _ I _ didn’t know.” He looked glum. They hadn’t trusted him? And he’d been too blind to figure it out?

 

John surprised them by addressing him, “We didn’t mean to exclude you, George. We didn’t tell anyone because we...weren’t sure if we were going to last.”

 

George just nodded, clearly still not satisfied.

 

Ringo spoke up again, “Is this why you divorced Cynthia, then?”

 

Paul answered, “And why I’m going to leave Jane.”

 

John was smiling again, looking lovestruck.

 

It was at that moment that George Martin came back. “I’ve got them. Ready to start, boys?”

 

Paul gave him the thumbs up, “Roll the tape, George.”

 

* * *

 

John jumped as the phone rang, startling his cat. He groaned as he stood up brushed his hair away from his face. He was in the flat, not at Cavendish, because he had cats to take of.

 

He picked up the phone, “Yeah?”

 

“John?” Came a vaguely familiar, gruff voice.

 

The singer frowned, “Yes?”

 

“It’s me, son. Alfred!” 

 

John nearly dropped the phone. He’d had mild communication with his father through letters since he’d last seen him. It had been reluctant and tense at first, but he liked to think they were getting somewhere. “Alf, how did you get this number?”

 

“Your people at the Apple thing, they didn’t believe me that I was your father at first.” And said.

 

John hummed, he couldn’t blame them. He never talked about Alf. “Why the call, then?” Was that too rude for a father?

 

Alf seemed to think so, “What’s this tone then?” He huffed, “No matter. Johnny, kid, I have a favour to ask of ye.”

 

“Oh?” John just hoped it wasn’t money or worse, something about a record.

 

“You remember how I stayed with you, earlier last year?”

 

John nodded, “Yeah, of course.”

 

“Looks like Pauline and I need a place to crash against.” He said, “I heard you’ve got a place now? Since the whole divorce thing?”

 

John sat down and waved one of his cats over, it turned away from him. “Yes, a flat of my friend’s. Ringo, you met him.”

 

“Uh huh, so can we stay with you, son?”

 

John looked around, at least someone would feed the cats if he wanted to be away. “Uh, sure. When are you arriving?”

 

“Within the week, I’ll call you.” Alf said nothing else before he hanged up.

 

John put the phone down slowly. He didn’t even get a thank you. But if he got to see his father again and hopefully improve their relationship, having him and his young (YOUNG) girl in his house couldn’t be that bad. 


End file.
